


Snap

by Harlecat



Series: Batman/Joker Fics [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1246495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harlecat/pseuds/Harlecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Joker hits him with a mixture of Fear Gas and Joker Venom, Batman finds himself with a problem that technically isn't even there: a hallucination of the Joker that is constantly as his side. Two parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snap

**Author's Note:**

> This is following the weekly prompt from Batjokes on tumblr. This prompt was hallucination, split personality, or imaginary friends. There's been some awesome submissions, you should check them out! -H

_“I didn’t want to fight you tonight in the first place.” The Joker crouched down next to the Batman and patted him on the head. “But hey, whatever you wanna do is fine with me. Using another villain’s trademark goes against my style, but when Scarecrow suggested mixing our toxins I thought ‘Hey! Why not?!’ So I took a little bit of his Fear Gas, added in a bit of my Joker Venom, and bam!” He clapped his hands together and burst into laughter. “Your worst-est nightmare! He called it_ Valley of Fear _.” The Joker stretched out on the hard, concrete floor next to Batman and tucked his hands under his head. “‘Cause if you wake up, it’ll never be the same. Gosh. You know, I really should’ve though of that whole_ ‘if’ _thing before I shot that stuff into you!” The Joker rolled over so that he was face-to-face with the unconscious Bat and yanked the needle of toxin out of his neck. “Wake up for me, Batsy. Wake up and make everything different.”_

 

Batman was spinning through darkness. He had no idea where he was, _when_ he was, and for one horrible moment- _who_ he was. Then he landed on the ground and stumbled forward. _I’m Bruce Wayne. I’m Batman. I’m in Gotham City_. He lurched around a corner against his will and saw a couple, huddled around their son, a gunman standing across from them. _And now it’s time to do my job._ He ran forward to help the family but he went straight through them, like they were mist. He turned and staggered backwards- he would recognize those two faces anywhere. It was his parents. Thomas and Martha Wayne. And the tiny boy between them had to be his younger self.

He spun around to face the gunman. His face was shadowed. His mouth didn’t move when he spoke, and seemed to come from everywhere.

_“Give me the pearls.”_

Then he pulled the trigger, and a bullet sped straight through Batman and into his parents. They vanished into the air in front of him, like fog on the wind. The young Bruce collapsed to the ground and wept.

Suddenly, he was sitting at the dining room table in Wayne Manor, a newspaper in front of him, but he wasn’t taking in any words.

“Sir,” Alfred said, appearing in the doorway. “Your date for the evening is here.”  
“Send her in.”

“Her?”

Bruce looked up from his paper, and it slid from his hands, landing on the table. Hanging off of Alfred’s arm was the Joker, wearing a skimpy purple dress with heels, complete with dark lipstick and eye makeup.

In one motion, the Joker knocked out Alfred and dropped onto Bruce’s lap and their lips met. He tried to push him away but couldn’t.

When he opened his eyes the scene had changed again. He was standing alone in an empty warehouse, a body in front of him.

The face was completely destroyed, but he still recognized the boy immediately. Despite the bruised, bloody skin, there was no mistaking Jason. He was curled into a ball, hands clutched over himself. A crowbar laid on the ground several feet away from him.

Bruce stepped toward him. “Jason?”

He rolled over and sat straight up with a frightening calmness. His eyes opened, and he turned toward him. His mouth didn’t move when he spoke.

 _“Why didn’t you save me?”  
_ The scene shifted again, melting away until he was standing in a hospital. A girl rested on the bed in front of him, hooked up to an IV.

Barbara groaned and rolled towards him, propping herself up one arm. _“Bruce.”_

“Yes?”

_“Why didn’t you save me?”_

And then she was Harvey Dent, bandages covering half of his face. _“Why didn’t you save me?”_

The world around him changed once again, as quickly as if he’d blinked, and a man in a red hood was falling into a vat of chemicals-

Bruce lunged forward to grab him- _maybe I can stop the Joker from happening-_ but there was only air in his hands, _and was the man laughing or screaming?_

A hammer came out of nowhere and hit him from behind. A mocking laugh filled his ears as he rushed toward the vat. He reached to his belt for a grappling hook but his Batsuit was gone. He was only Bruce Wayne.

He shouted and struggled to stay above the surface, but a sudden weight appeared over his head and shoulders, and he submerged. He was dragged down into the chemicals by unseen hands. _Air!_ He needed some or his lungs were going to burst. Air! _Air!_

He was starting to think that he might have already died from lack of oxygen when the world suddenly spun into focus. He pulled himself out of a river and dropped onto the bank, gasping for breath.

But the air was stuffy, hot. Something was wrong.

He reached up to push his hair out of his eyes but his hand bumped into something hard. He grabbed it and pulled, and something dropped off of his head and rolled away.

_Is that... it can’t be... But-_

It was a hood. A _red_ hood. He yelled again and pulled himself back over the river. He had to see his reflection.

Oh _God..._ his skin... his hair... his _smile_...

He shrieked and fell backward, and when he opened his eyes, he was laying in a bed, in a cell.

The door was pushed open, and a man in wearing a suit of armor appeared. “Time for therapy.”

“Where- what-”

“Come _on_.” He lifted Bruce easily, and half dragged him down the cell block. Somehow he could see into the cells around him. They didn’t seem to include any real prisoners- one had a cat in it, another a badly made a scarecrow. There was a venus flytrap, a penguin, a magpie... one was inhabited solely by a _coin._

The man in armor pushed him into a room and down into a chair, in front of a long table. Bruce tried to move his arms, but he was in a straightjacket.

“Doctor Napier overseeing patient 131.”

A man appeared across from him. It was the Joker again, wearing a red and black suit.

“Joker?”

He giggled and opened up his folder. “Now, Brucey. You told me you’d been having some rather distressing dreams the last time we met. Have they... worsened?”

_“Where am I?”_

“You’re in Arkham, sweetie.” He took off his glasses and sat them down in front of him. “I know it’s hard to grasp, but you’re here.”

“Joker-”

He frowned. “My name is Jack Napier.”

“You’re the Joker-”

The Joker narrowed his eyes, clearly confused. “Who?”

“But-”

“Therapy is over,” he announced, and clicked his fingers. Yet again, the world changed. Bruce was sitting in the Batcave.

“Aww, Batsy.” The Joker, now wearing his classic purple suit, pranced over to the Batmobile. “Finally! I get to see your toys up close!”

He turned to flash a grin at Bruce, and he saw that there wasn’t a shirt under his jacket. For some reason, it felt necessary to glance down and make sure all of _his_ clothes were on. They were.

“You know who I am?”

“Obviously.” the Joker inspected the Batmobile and skipped back over to Bruce. “Oh, but this is al _ready_ boring!”  
“What?”

He snapped his fingers and once again the world was completely different. “Want to watch Mommy and Daddy die again?”

_“Joker-”_

The Joker jumped out of his way and bowed. “No, I think that’s cliché. How about we flash back to one of your many near death experiences? I can make ol’ Pennyworth get murdered in his bed! What’s your new Robin named? _Damian_? Your son? I can have him raped, beaten, and dead before you can swing a crowbar.” He snapped his fingers again and the world went dark. Bruce opened his eyes and realized he was laying down.

“Bru- _ucey_...” a voice purred. “I think you need to turn on the _light_...”

Bruce sat up and, as his eyes adjusted, saw his bedroom. He stood and his covers fell off of him. He was naked.

He crossed the room and somehow found the courage to flick the lights on. He grit his teeth and turned around.

The Joker, also naked, was propped up in his bed, partly hidden by the covers.

_“Joker-”_

He burst into wild laughter and Bruce found himself walking back over into the bed and laying down. The Joker flashed him a horrible grin.

“What’s going on?”

“Roll over and I’ll tell you.”

_“No.”_

The Joker pouted. “You’re _dreaming,_ sugar.”

“But why are you controlling it?”  
“Cause it’s my show. Now roll over.” 

Against his will, Bruce rolled over. _“Stop it.”_

“Ooh! Are we talking dirty?”

_“Stop it!”_

“Why?”

“Dammit, I don’t want to fuck you!”  
The Joker scowled. “Well, aren’t you forward.”  
“I _don’t_!”

“Hmmph!” The Joker folded his arms. “Fine! Be that way! I just won’t fuck you!”  
_“Thank you!”_

_“You’re welcome!”_

Never had those two phrases been filled with so much hate.

After an awkward pause, Bruce started to speak again. “Where am I and what’s going on?”

He felt a cool hand on his hip, and slapped it away before it could touch anything else. The hand moved up to his hair, and the Joker twirled a curl around his finger.

“Told you, Bruceybat. You’re dreaming.”

“But _what’s going on?”_

“Aw. I dunno. It’s your head. _You’ve_ gotta wake up.”

Bruce concentrated all his efforts on waking up.

Nothing happened.

“Can’t you just click your fingers and make me wake up?”

“It doesn’t work like that.”  
“But-”

The Joker yanked the covers up over his head and dove down towards Bruce. He shouted and tried to move away.

 _“Relax!”_ the Joker cried. “It’s just your _leg!”_

 _“Get away from me!”  
_ “Come on! I’ll send you back! _Please?”_

“God _dammit,_ get off of me!” Bruce fought furiously, and then froze. “What the hell are you _doing_?”  
When the Joker spoke, his voice was muffled, and not just by the blankets. “I-”

 _“What the hell!”_ Bruce kicked the Joker away and stood up, then grabbed the blankets off the bed and wrapped them around himself. He jabbed a finger in the Joker’s direction. “No!”  
“Hey!”

Bruce opened his bedroom drawer and stomped out, not caring that he was only wearing a blanket.

There was a pop, and the Joker appeared, leaning casually against the wall, now _(thankfully)_ dressed. He was holding out two shoes. They were bright red.

“What are these?”

“If you put them on and click your heels together and say ‘there’s no place like home’ it’ll wake you up.”

“Seriously?”  
“Well, probably.” The Joker offered the shoes. “Or we could go fuck some more.”

Bruce snatched the shoes, and examined them. They had heels, and sparkled.

“Why can’t they be guy shoes?”  
“Because guy shoes aren’t _magical_.”  
Bruce shoved on the shoes on. “This is stupid.”  
“I know.”  
Trying not to turn red, Bruce clicked his heels together, mumbling that there was no place like home.

The Joker applauded, and blew him a kiss. The world faded out.

 

Batman could distantly recall waking up at the warehouse where he’d fought the Joker, climbing into the Batmobile, and driving home- but what he really remembered was collapsing from exhaustion the moment he stepped into his bed.

He blinked open his eyes, feeling as if he’d only just fallen asleep. He turned and squinted at the clock on his night stand. It was four in the morning. He tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t.

Bruce put on his robe and slippers and headed downstairs, and into the Cave. The details of his _terrible_ dream were starting to fade away, and now he had to focus on getting the Joker back in Arkham.

Several moments later, Alfred appeared on the stairs, also wearing a robe and slippers. “Master Bruce, this is late, even by your standards.”  
“I have to find the Joker.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“That’d be great.”

Alfred yawned and left, appearing several moments later with a tray. He poured Bruce a glass of tea, and went back up to bed.

Bruce drank his tea and skipped around on the Batcomputer, doing everything he could do find the Joker.

When he saw his reflection in the screen, he thought he was seeing things. Bruce blinked and leaned forward, examining the screen. It looked like someone was standing behind him.

He turned around and nearly gagged on his tea. Walking over, quite calmly, was the Joker.

Bruce stood up sharply and rushed over. The Joker would pay for that _awful_ dream sequence.

But, just before he could hit him, he vanished into thin air.

Bruce stepped backward in shock/  
“Not here, honey.”

“Where-”

The Joker snapped and appeared, sitting next to Bruce’s keyboard, a cup of tea in his hands. “I _like_ what you’ve done with the place!”  
“I’m not still dreaming, am I?”

“Course not. You’d _know_ if you were dreaming. There’d be some weird tell-all. For example,” he clicked his fingers again, and his outfit changed. “I’d be wearing a _dress_.”  
“Put your suit back on.”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” There was a pop and the purple suit re-appeared. The Joker raised his cup to his lips and took a sip. “Course, you don’t _have_ to see me. If you’d prefer I could be-” he disappeared, but his voice still filled the room. _“In your head.”_ There was another pop, and he reappeared. “But I say invading people’s heads is rude.”

“So why am I hallucinating?”  
“Well, if we take into consideration the fact that I’m A, not real and B, a figment of _your_ imagination...”  
“ _I_ don’t want you to be here!”  
“Well, I’m here. Please, contain your joy.”  
“I deal with you enough as it is!”

“Oh, my. Well, it really does look like you’re stuck with me, because I have no intention of leaving.”

Bruce swore and rubbed his temples. “Can’t I just take some medication or something?”

“Hmm. No.”  
“Look, if you _are_ going to hang around, can’t you at least be useful and help me track the real Joker down?”

“Hmm. No. I really have no idea where he is, or what he’s getting up to. I’m in _your_ head, not his.”  
“Fuck!”  
“Splendid idea!”  
_“No!”_ Bruce stood up and headed for the stairs. “I’m going to bed and you are _not_ going to follow me.”  
“Well, where am I supposed to sleep?”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

The hallucination followed Bruce out of the Cave. “So why can’t I sleep in your room, Bruceybat?”  
“Because I said no.”  
“But you also said-”  
“Don’t follow me.”

The hallucination continued to follow him. “If I can’t sleep with you, who can I sleep with?”

“You can’t sleep with anyone. You don’t exist.”

The Joker frowned. “Good point.”

Bruce sighed. “Look, there’s a guest room that way. Don’t try anything.”  
The Joker skipped off down the hall.

Bruce really needed some more sleep.


End file.
